


Don't Bet With Nick Fury

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-04-26
Packaged: 2018-06-04 16:45:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6666427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil loses a bit to Nick, and the payoff is more than annoying than a Duran Duran song from the 80s. He and Clint have to go to his High School reunion. It's a little bit Grosse Pointe Blank, it's a little bit badass Phil. Clint thinks the whole night is a success.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Bet With Nick Fury

Phil didn’t lose bets very often, so when he did, Clint tried to capitalize on them. If Clint could finagle the bet to end up with him alone with Phil, preferably somewhere with good food and good wine, he would do it. This time, though, he’d agreed to a ridiculous bet, figuring there was no way Phil would lose and have to cash it in.

“My high school reunion. God dammit, Clint.”

Clint shrugged as he pulled the rental car into the parking lot. “I didn’t think you’d lose.”

“So you let Nick Fury bait you into betting me that I’d have to come back here for this?”

“I think he wants a picture of you with your High School English teacher? He told me to make sure I took one. He said it had better be a good one.”

“Damn it.”

“Look on the bright side, Phil. You got me into a suit and I have to suffer through it with you.”

“You’re wearing your Converse.”

“Nobody’s gonna be looking at my feet, Phil,” Clint replied as he turned the engine off and leaned over to plant a kiss on Phil’s cheek. “They’ll be too distracted by how hot you got over the last twenty years.”

Phil sighed. “Twenty-five, Clint.”

They climbed out of the car and made their way to the banquet hall. Clint could hear music from the hallway. “Is that Duran Duran?” he asked, and got a shove from Phil in return.

“Why I’m offering you a reward after you let Nick trick me into this bet, I’ll never know, but you know the rule for tonight, Clint.”

Clint straightened his tie and sighed. “Put up or shut up and don’t leave your side. Got it.”

Clint was secretly pretty excited to be at Phil’s high school reunion. He’d never been to high school, so this was a world totally foreign to him, and it was a glimpse into Phil’s past, which he rarely got to look into at home. Plus, Phil did look incredibly hot in the Italian suit he was wearing, and Clint felt pretty good in his own linen suit he’d chosen for the night. They made a good-looking couple, if you asked Clint. These high school jerks (if Phil was to be believed) could fuck off as far as Clint was concerned.

They stopped at a table to pick up name tags and Phil introduced Clint to a tall, greying woman with sparkling green eyes who complimented them both and told them to enjoy the nostalgia. She seemed okay, but Phil put his name tag on, adjusted Clint’s so it was level, and took a deep breath.

“Phil?” Clint asked, leaning into his space. “You okay?”

“Two hours, Nick said. We have to stay two hours and then we can meet him at that amazing looking brew pub near the hotel. I can do two hours, right?”

Clint cocked his head, took Phil’s hand in his own, and nodded. “Yeah, Phil. You can.”

They headed into the ballroom and made a beeline for the cash bar in the corner. Clint couldn’t help casing the room as they stood in line to order Gin and Tonics from a bored-looking college student. The place was crowded, filled with people gasping over name tags, gripping each other’s shoulders as they laughed at an old joke, and generally looking delighted to see each other. Clint wondered for a moment what that would be like. He stretched his mind back to dusty corn fields and faded circus tents and couldn’t think of anyone from that part of his life he’d be delighted to see again.

They got their drinks and gravitated toward a wall – Phil said standing against the wall was what he did most at high school gatherings anyway – when a mountain of a guy grabbed Phil’s elbow and let out a belly laugh. He was at least six-five, and he had a neatly trimmed beard and expensive suit. “Phil fucking Coulson!” he said, and Clint found himself moving closer to the guy for a better angle at his kneecaps. He didn’t like the tone of the guy’s voice.

Phil drew himself straighter, as if he could come a little closer to being the guy’s height, and nodded. “Jared Barlow, good to see you.”

“You’ve never come to one of these since we graduated, Coulson,” Barlow said. “What brings you around now?”

Clint definitely needed to be ready to kick the shit out of this asshole. He moved a little closer. Phil sighed and put his hand on Clint’s arm and pulled him back a little. “I lost a bet,” Phil said honestly, and Clint wondered if he was looking for a fight.

Barlow stared for a second and then grinned. “Was bringing this guy part of losing that bet, too? Someone want you to get beat up?”

Clint swallowed and his body tensed. He wanted to hit Barlow in his annoyingly square chin, but Phil’s hand clenched around his arm again. “This is Clint. He and I’ve been together for eight years. I’ll see you around, Barlow,” Phil finished, and he guided Clint away, toward an area set up with tables.

“He’s an idiot,” Phil said as they sat down. “Always has been.”

Over the next hour Clint relaxed into two gin and tonics and a parade of people who stop by and were clearly happy that Phil finally decided to come to a reunion. Clint met Lucy, who actually made Phil tear up a little when she recounted their antics in a particular science teacher’s class – Clint felt suddenly sorry for that science teacher – and a guy named Bill who thanked Phil for helping him ditch a record fifteen days of school in one semester without getting caught.

“You ditched school?” Clint asked incredulously.

“No, I helped him ditch school. School was a miserable hell for him one semester, thanks to jackasses in his life, and he seemed like he needed help.” Phil shrugged and sipped his drink, and Clint started feeling a weird, overwhelming sense of admiration for who Phil used to be. This reunion thing was turning out okay, except, well.

“You’re making a weird face,” Phil said, startling Clint out of his reverie.

“What? No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you were. What are you thinking about?”

Clint shrugged and blew out a breath. “I’m just annoyed at how everyone assumes you’re either an accountant or a salesman. Pisses me off. Salesman. Are they blind?”

Phil laughed and finished his drink. “I don’t mind so much. You know I’ve worked to perfect ‘unassuming.’” He stood and held out his hand for Clint, who sighed and stood next to him.

“Unassuming my ass,” Clint muttered, and Phil tugged him back to the line for the bar. They still had to stay for another hour to fulfill the bet, and they were both going to need another drink.

Of course, apparently standing in line for drinks was what all the assholes did.

“Phil Coulson.”

Phil and Clint turned around, and a chill went down Clint’s spine. This had trouble written all over it. The guy who spoke had a velvety voice and was tall and thin with salt-and-pepper hair  brushed straight back. He had beautiful blue eyes and was wearing a very expensive suit.

“Graeme.” Phil said, and there was something in Phil’s voice that made Clint step back a little, give him some room. Apparently others had the same idea, and knew something of what was happening, because a small space suddenly opened up around Phil and Graeme.

“You brought your boyfriend,” Graeme said, but he didn’t say it the same way Barlow had said it. This was more about surprise than distaste, but it was tinged with disappointment, too, and it set Clint’s teeth on edge.

“This is Clint,” Phil said, and when Clint reached out to shake the guy’s hand, he just stared at it for a second and then stared at Clint. He raked his eyes up and down Clint’s frame, like he wanted him, and then he licked his lips and walked away.

“What the hell, Coulson,” someone nearby said. “You should kick his ass.”

Barlow was back, apparently, because he chimed in, “That’s a funny joke. Coulson couldn’t kick a third-grader’s ass.”

Several people chuckled, but Clint was focused on Phil, who looked furious. “What was that, Phil?” he asked, and pulled Phil out of line and toward the door. “Are you okay?”

Phil nodded, but then Graeme appeared at his shoulder again. They were in a crowd of people, and Clint saw Graeme lean into Phil’s space and run his hand down the back of Phil’s head. Clint saw red, but apparently, so did Phil.

In the space of two breaths, Phil had Graeme on the ground, his arm twisted behind him and Phil’s knee in his back. The crowd quickly backed up and Clint saw Barlow step to the front to watch, stunned.

Phil leaned over Graeme’s back, pulling his arm hard enough to get a whimper. “You keep your hands off me, and you stay away from my partner. We will both make sure you can’t use your hands to hurt anyone else again if you even look like you’re thinking of coming near us. Got it?”

Graeme nodded, and when Phil let him go, he scrambled to his feet and left the room without a glance back.

“Holy shit, Coulson,” Barlow laughed as Phil brushed off his pants. “Maybe you can beat up a third grader.”

Clint walked over and leaned into the guy’s face. “How bout you quit bein’ an asshole, huh?” He said, “Or we’ll find out what grade you’re actually in, okay?”

Barlow looked at him with a flash of fear, and looked over at Phil. “Sorry, Coulson,” he muttered, and walked away.

Clint told Phil to wait a second, and he walked to the bar. Everyone parted to let him by, and he ordered two gin and tonics and took them back to Phil. “Here, drink this and then we’re outta here. Nick can fuck off if he thinks this didn’t make up for the extra hour.”

Phil smiled and downed his drink in one gulp. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

A few people came by to make sure Phil was okay, and a couple more came by to high five him for sending Graeme packing.

“That guy’s not too popular, huh?” Clint asked as they walked out to their car.

“I dated him for a couple months senior year. He was in the closet, though, and had been homecoming king that year. He was cruel to a lot of kids at the school. He thought he was doing me a favor back then, and I wasn’t really strong enough to stand up to him much. Looks like he never grew up.”

Clint opened Phil’s door for him and leaned in for a kiss. “You did, though, and I think we should go back to the hotel and demonstrate the other ways you’ve grown up since high school, huh? What do you say?”

Phil pulled him closer and deepened the kiss. He finally pulled back and licked his lips. “That sounds better than listening to Duran Duran at an overrated school dance.”

Clint didn’t get the picture for Nick, but when he explained what happened, Nick agreed that kicking the ass of an ex-boyfriend and homecoming king totally made up for it. Also, nobody noticed Clint’s shoes.


End file.
